


On opposite sides

by PoofAlmighty



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Hinanoya - Freeform, I was inspired, Internal Dialogue, M/M, NishiHina - Freeform, Poetry, i guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 10:39:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7888051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoofAlmighty/pseuds/PoofAlmighty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Noya and Hinata's feelings as they play against one another in a practice match.  Rated mature for strong language and adult themes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On opposite sides

**Author's Note:**

> So this was inspired by a poem that I had to read for class called "Sitting Up, Standing, Taking Steps" by Ron Silliman. Part 1 is from Hinata's POV and part 2 is from Noya's

Net taut. Fluorescent lights. Reflections on the wood. Musty smell of high schoolers.

I know this room so well, and yet it feels different today. Something isn't right. It's like the whole world has been thrown out of whack. Everything seemed normal when practice started; and yet, now, for some reason, something doesn't seem right. My gaze drifts across the room.

White shirts. Black shorts. Mismatched shoes. Mop against the wall. Two managers, a coach, and an advisor at the sideline.

The whistle blows. The match begins. A powerful serve comes from behind my head faster than I can react. Figures. I've been distracted for awhile now. I look up. The ball is above my head now. Chance Ball.

High intensity. The sound of the ball against rough hands. Squeaking shoes. Air around my body. Weightlessness. Limitlessness.

I feel the ball slap against my hand. Or maybe it's my hand slapping against the ball. I'm never sure how to put it. The world around me freezes. I pray to a God I've never quite believed in that the ball hits the ground. It doesn't. As I fly through the sky, I look down before me to see the valley on the other side of the net.

The acute angle of the knee. Spiky, gelled hair. A bleached lock over the forehead. That wild smile.

Noya is squatting with his arms outstretched. He received the ball perfectly. It's no wonder they call him one of the best liberos in the league. It frustrates me that, no matter how hard I try, I can never get a hit that reliably gets past him. I land. I feel the ache on my palm. I had put everything into that spike. Noya doesn't deserve any less than the best I can give him.

Almond-shaped eyes. Chocolate irises around infinite pupils. The bruises on his arms. The circumference of his wrists. That smile. His smile.

Ever since I met Noya I was drawn to him. At first, it was just because he's shorter than me. Now, it's because I understand my feelings for him. I know I'm useless on the court without Kageyama; but without Noya, everything seems useless. Any tricks we devise, any plans we make, if Noya isn't there it's all pointless. I see him jump up and down in celebration.

The lifted shirt. His V-taper. The subtly defined abdomen. The scrapes on his legs. His smile. His fucking smile.

I wish I could be more like him. He brings energy to the team. Without him, we're nothing. Without me... that's a different story. Whenever I make a mistake, I can count on Noya to fix it. Whenever I cost the team a point, I can count on Noya to lift my spirits. Without him, we're nothing. Without him, I'm nothing.

The smooth contour of his muscles. His laugh. "Shouyou" in his voice. His breathing. His gaze. His skin. His touch. The calming warmth of his body.

The game is over. Of course, we didn't stand a chance. Nobody on our side can receive like Noya, so they just kept racking up points against us. I strip off the sweaty shirt from my skin. The cool air of the locker room feels good against my bare stomach. I stand to take in the moment, breathing slowly, methodically. Suddenly, a hand claps against the back of my shoulder. "Good job today, Shouyou," Says a voice. It's Noya. "As a reward, I'll take you out to ice cream, so wait for me after you're done changing."

So little height. So much presence. His proud voice throughout the locker room. His tough back and shoulders. His thin hips and waist. His neck. His head. His everything.

I am standing outside of the convenience store with ice cream in my hand. Noya walks out the door with his usual, cool smile and a Popsicle. The soda-flavored one. His favorite. He puts a hand on my head and tousles my hair. His touch seems to infect me with something, because it sends a shiver down my spine. I want more of it. I want more of him.

Noya. My Noya. My Yuu. My Senpai.

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah I guess this is a thing now??? It started with me thinking of a bunch of physical descriptions of Noya because of the poem I was reading (The whole poem had no verbs how crazy is that?). So I decided it might be fun to integrate that idea with a more standard normal story. I tried to stay in character, but who knows how well I accomplished I that. Oh, well. Yolo.


End file.
